


An Open Book Is

by drifting_chronotope



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Consensual Kink, Fluff, Hiccups, Librarians, Library Sex, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mages, Orc!Dovahkiin, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sexual Roleplay, Smut, Snark, Spanking, no books were harmed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-07 22:23:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11068326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drifting_chronotope/pseuds/drifting_chronotope
Summary: The Dragonborn returns to the College of Winterhold with new books and a familiar request for the Arcanaeum's stalwart librarian.





	An Open Book Is

Taking that first step into the Arcanaeum never failed to make Shargoth’s breath catch. To that long-ago novice, the sight of the many tomes upon tomes of arcane wisdom kept safe in their cases, his to request and peruse, had seemed a small paradise, a miracle even. Not until his teen years had he ever seen, much less had access to, anything more than a small handful of books at any one time. Orc strongholds in Skyrim were not known for their extensive libraries. Even after a year under the mantle of Arch-Mage the sight filled him with a hunger to cast aside all his other duties and spend hours reading as serendipity directed.

Of course, the collection was not the only thing Shargoth had come to love about the College's library.

He walked into the center of the room and took in the empty space filled only by the stacks of books on the tables around him. It was mid-morning. Most of the students would be in classes, wouldn’t they? The Arch-Mage should know these things, probably. Shargoth struggled to remember. Mornings into early afternoons were for practical study, lectures, right? Maybe private research. Definitely for sleeping off the hangovers. Everyone was likely absorbed in either teaching or projects of their own. Attendance would increase after lunch, into the evenings. That was about when Onmund or J’zargo had usually found him hunkered down at one of the tables and absorbed in his reading.

His sigh was a little rueful. He had spent too long away. His responsibilities as Dragonborn took so much of his attention. He missed those long evenings he spent as novice doing nothing more productive than sipping wine and soaking up lore.

Shargoth pushed back his traveling hood and lightly tapped the butt of his staff on the stone. The brisk echo of sound was answered by a curt grunt coming from a shadowy recess. He peered through a stone arch and finally made out the shape of a white-haired Orc with a book tucked under an arm.

"You blend in too well," Shargoth joked. A grin spread between his crooked tusks. "I'll need to put an illumination enchantment on you. Maybe a bell, too."

"Funny," Urag said in a voice very clear that it was not. He locked the bookcase and then headed to his desk, casting Shargoth a passing glance. "Will you be staying with us longer than a few hours this time? I think some of the students around here might actually remember your face."

Shargoth's grin fell. He propped his staff carefully against a chair and slung off his satchel. Inside was not the reason he had returned to the College—he was supposed to be returning to Solstheim—but it was an adequate excuse. He pulled out a small bundle and walked it to Urag's desk.

"I'll be here for the evening," he said, not hiding the regret in his voice. "I’ve a boat to catch in Windhelm tomorrow." He set the bundle on the desk, his eyes downcast. "I wanted to make sure I got these to you while I had the chance."

The bundle turned out to be a stack of four books tied neatly with twine to keep them secure in his satchel. Urag brushed a hand over the top book, the action almost a caress.

"You found another of Shalidor's writings, I see," he said admiringly.

"Yes,” Shargoth answered with fair pluck of pride. “And that copy of _Souls, Black and White_ you’d requested.” His pride deflated into chagrin. “Sorry it took me so long."

"Winterhold not have enough dragons for you to chase, Arch-Mage?" Urag said, his eyes sharp on Shargoth.

“Nah, you scared them all off after the last time one tried landing on the tower,” Shargoth said and grinned when Urag grunted at him. He felt a touch nervous. He rubbed at the stubble on his jaw. It made him self-conscious standing in front Urag like he was. He needed a good shave and a fresh trim. He should've changed out of his traveling robes. But he’d been impatient and he hadn’t much time and he needed…

He watched Urag take the books and stow them safely under the desk. Shargoth knew he would want to inspect them before adding them to the collection. When he resurfaced, he looked at Shargoth expectantly.

"Anything else?"

Shargoth's shoulders stiffened. He shifted his jaw, lip rubbing tusks. He hesitated and then made a move as if to reach for the other Orc. It didn't make it. He aborted the action and let it be satisfied with a palm on the smooth wood of the desk.

"I know that we don’t have much time,” Shargoth said carefully, “but I’d hoped that… Well, I’d...”

"We don’t have time to be playing guessing games when I’ve got books to catalog. Speak."

Shargoth’s nostrils flared with an intake of breath. He cast a hasty glance around the library. Still empty. He wet his lips. Taking another long breath, he looked back at Urag. He fought the urge to fidget under those iron eyes. When he spoke again his voice had dropped low and his eyes were fixed on the desk.

"I've been good, sir,” Shargoth whispered.

A beat of silence passed between them. Shargoth’s palm pressed hard into the wood. His chest hurt. He'd misjudged. It's been too long. Too much distance has grown between them. He was just about to pull away when he heard Urag’s deep rumble.

"I suppose you have," Urag said. "Though you know how I feel about Orcs who don't look at me when I'm speaking to them."

Instantly Shargoth snapped his eyes back up, locking onto that stern face. Urag let a thin smile show before it vanished back into his mask of crisp severity. He crossed his arms and stared Shargoth down.

"What reward do you deserve, I wonder?"

Shargoth’s throat felt dry, his tongue suddenly awkward. He knew exactly what he wanted. It'd just been a long time since he'd had to say it aloud. Gradually, the words found him.

"I need your cock, sir," he said, struggling to keep his voice steady. "I deserve it."

"Is that so?" Urag rumbled.

Nodding, breath coming quick, Shargoth said, "Yes, sir."

Urag hummed at him. He stepped back from the desk until there was a space large enough to house a second body.

"Come and kneel here," he said, and pointed at the space before his feet.

There was no hesitation in Shargoth as he glided around the desk and sank to his knees at the place indicated. A deep tension somewhere inside him was relaxing as he watched Urag unbuckle his belt and shuffle open his clothes. Shargoth pressed his tongue against his teeth. Even soft, Urag wasn't small. He wanted him full mast, wanted him pushing down into his throat. Shargoth had never known how much he enjoyed that kind of thing before he met Urag. He could come from it--Urag fucking his throat. Had done it before. He'd joked it was because he was Dragonborn, that his throat was always so sensitive from Shouting. But the truth was that he loved the surrender of it. The simplicity of it. Urag wouldn’t judge him. Urag wouldn't hurt him. He was safe. Here he did not have to be anything he did not want to be, and here all he wanted to be was this.

"Are you listening to me?"

Shargoth blinked. Urag had said something? He swallowed and stared up at Urag's frown. His stomach fluttered. "No,” he said, then correcting himself, “No, sir. I wasn't paying attention."

Urag's frown deepened. He stroked a hand over Shargoth's head, using the motion to bend his head back further. His fingers tightened in the thick, black hair gathered back in a short tail.

"How am I supposed to reward you when you're already misbehaving?"

"I—I'll—" Shargoth fumbled for words. He felt himself start to panic. Urag's pants merely sagged open around his hips. It would take a only moment for him to redress. If this was over before it even started Shargoth didn't know what he'd do. He screwed his eyes shut and clenched his jaws.

He felt Urag's hand stroke his hair again, combing his fingers through again until they hit the resistance of the tie and then pulled it free. Shargoth’s hair fanned out, tips curling up under his ears. He exhaled and opened his eyes. Urag was watching him.

"You need to concentrate," Urag rumbled. He ran his other hand over Shargoth's forehead, tracing the bumps of bone over his eyebrows. "Will you do that for me?"

Shargoth released another shaky breath. He knew a hurdle had been crossed. He did not turn his eyes from Urag's. "Yes… yes, sir."

Another thin smile flitted across Urag's lips, nearly lost in his beard, but Shargoth saw it. Urag kept the hand in his hair but moved his other to his cloth. He didn't bother palming himself. He just let it hover there as he stroked Shargoth's hair.

"Are you ready?"

Shargoth's insides tightened. "Yes, sir."

Urag hummed. He crowded Shargoth's space, urged him to slide back until his back was against the inside of the desk, until the back of his head was braced against the edge of the desktop. He held his head there with that hand in Shargoth's thick hair, scrunching up the strands. Between his body and the desk, Shargoth had nowhere to go.

"You are going to get me hard and then I am going to fuck your throat for a while. You're not to touch me or yourself. The only exception is if you can't take it anymore." He brushed his fingers over his sex, barely pulling at the cloth. "Am I understood?"

Shargoth nodded the best he could. “Yes, sir.” He loved hearing Urag say dirty words—Urag rarely cursed. He spread his knees for better balance and heat bloomed in his belly when his cock rubbed against the tight tension of fabric.

He watched as Urag pushed aside his undercloth and then Urag was guiding himself to Shargoth’s parting lips, sliding in, letting him suck him in until he felt his sac hot against his chin and his tusks pressed into the tender creases of Urag's groin. He smiled around the stretch. The soft cock felt perfect in his mouth. He swallowed a few times, adjusting, mindful of his teeth but not too worried. Urag knew the touch of teeth. He flexed his tongue and felt his blood burn hotter each time Urag’s cock twitched in response.

"Good," Urag grunted, leaning further over Shargoth's head, shifting to get his cock pushed further into the slick cavern of his mouth. "That's good."

Pinned between the desk and Urag's groin, Shargoth had little leverage for movement. That only made him focus harder. Soon he felt Urag’s cock thicken, felt it lengthening in his mouth. Shargoth stretched and forced open his jaw until the tendons stung. He could feel the tip poking at the back of his throat, opening him up and keeping him there. His eyes watered and his muscles quivered, but that feeling of Urag inside him—he  _missed_ that feeling.

Urag gave a delicate thrust, just once, just gently. Shargoth moaned. He swallowed and felt a gush of saliva dribble out the corners of his mouth. A tingle shot up his spine at the next.

"You take me so well," Urag murmured. "Now relax. Let me fuck you."

He moved his hand from Shargoth's hair to his chin, tilting his head up to get a better angle. He kept the hand near Shargoth's jaw while his other braced itself on the desk. Half-standing over him, Urag started sliding himself in and out of the hungry grip of Shargoth's mouth and throat, soft grunts of pleasure rumbling out within a low growl. Shargoth forced himself to stay calm, to go loose, to let the older Orc use him. He focused on the sensations. The smooth, velvet texture of Urag gliding along his tongue, the bump of his tip spearing him open, the trickle of a spicy fluid and his own saliva, the bright, growing itch between his legs that begged for a touch. 

The thrusts stayed disciplined, but they stayed relentless. Each grunt Urag gave, Shargoth mirrored. His hands latched onto the desk behind him, needing something to hold. Deep drives, quick slides, Shargoth chased him with his tongue, sucking when opportunity allowed, swallowing when he could. Urag seemed to like that—the sucking, the swallowing—so Shargoth made a point of doing it until he felt giddy listening to the sounds Urag made. This was what he wanted. He was going to come. From just this. Just like he used to. His trapped arousal was its own beautiful pain, tight and building and ready to explode. It was primal. He just needed _something_ , just something a little more, _a little more_ , and he'd be _there_.

He broke a rule and he paid for it.

On Urag's next thrust, Shargoth pushed forward, forcing him against the back of his throat. His muscles squeezed around the invasion and a spurt of liquid tickled him. It triggered a cough. He fought the gagging, fought to keep Urag buried inside, but the panic came. His hands flashed out for Urag's thighs and he squeezed.

Immediately, Urag's hand steadied his jaw and he felt him pulling out. Shargoth hated that sudden emptiness even as his body thanked him.

"Breathe, Shar," Urag was saying, stroking his hair, "Breathe for me."

Shargoth coughed into his elbow, burning with frustration at his own stupidity. It took a moment for his throat to stop hitching. When it did, he cast a shy look up at Urag. That hadn't been the first time he'd done something foolish like that.

"You rushed me," Urag said. His voice was stern, expression one of worry. "You know better than to do that."

"Yes, sir," Shargoth rasped, "I know."

His throat still throbbed but Shargoth could manage that. He straightened up, rocking his hips as the fabric of his pants set off sparks behind his eyes. He breathed in, licked at the saliva on his lips, swallowed--

Shargoth hiccuped.

Urag stared at him. He processed the sound. “Did you just…"

“- _Hic_ -”

Shargoth was mortified. He hiccuped yet again and pressed a hand over his mouth. He groaned. And hiccuped.

"Let's get you up," Urag said with a chuckle. He backed up, heavy cock swaying as he moved, motioning for Shargoth to stand.

Shargoth wiped the back of his hand over his mouth then levered himself up to his feet. He hiccuped.

Urag grinned at him. "Looks like someone needs to help you cure those. Luckily, I know an alternative treatment we can try." He brushed his knuckles along his shaft. "Did you come prepared?"

Shargoth dropped his hand and fought against another hiccup. He pawed at a pouch on his belt, liberating a small vial of oil that he'd mixed himself. Sexual play wasn't its main application. It boasted alchemical properties to resist the elements. That had lots of uses in his line of work. He offered the vial to Urag with another shy look. He hadn't been sure he'd need it. Had been afraid Urag would send him away.

"Bend over the edge there, facing front,” Urag said, pointing at the left end of the desk. “Put your hands flat on the top."

A hiccup ruined Shargoth’s attempt at being suave. Dragonborn— _Arch-Mage—Horny_ and hiccuping. So sexy. But the noises each time another hiccup took him didn’t seem to bother Urag. Shargoth watched him move a nearby candelabra away to a safe distance. His eyes glanced towards the library's entryway. Urag was still his. He leaned forward, both palms braced on the wood. Urag tapped a foot against Shargoth's instep, encouraging him to spread his feet, before folding up the ends of Shargoth's robe, tucking it secure, to get at the trousers he wore underneath.

He stroked over Shargoth's backside, humming loud enough for Shargoth to hear. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

Shargoth nodded, sighing as he felt Urag’s broad hands start to massage him through the fabric. He'd given up trying to stop the hiccups. They just added another element that made his body ache. Another uncontrollable tic that left him breathless and aroused at the sudden clench of muscles. Urag made another slow pass over his thighs, his hips, his ass, before reaching around to unbutton Shargoth’s pants. Shargoth's cock screamed to be free, but Urag seemed in no rush to bring him that relief. He slipped a hand inside and cupped him through his undercloth, pressing lightly, fingers curling, gently rubbing. Shargoth let out a soft moan, interspersed with another hiccup. He cursed inside his head.

The hiccups were getting worse.

Urag was enjoying himself. He squeezed him, got another cute moan, and this time Shargoth’s curse was out loud.

"Language.”

Shargoth ducked his head. "Yes, sir— _hic—_ "

Finally Urag plucked the final buttons open on Shargoth's pants and pushed them down his hips as far as Shargoth's position allowed. The damp loincloth went next, pulled away and bunched under him on the desk while Shargoth's erection bobbed out. The library air was cool on his heated skin. His hips arched, discreetly up, down, to indulge the shiver of that chill.

"You did come prepared," Urag praised. He ran a callused palm over Shargoth's bared skin, fingers grazing over glistening evidence. “You slicked yourself for me."

Shargoth smiled at the genuine approval in Urag’s voice. Sure, it had gotten him a confused look from his housecarl when he’d called for an extra rest stop but that was one thing Shargoth _had_ thought to do. Slowly he swished his hips side to side, peeking over his shoulder to watch Urag react. His smile became a grin at the way Urag’s nostrils were flaring. Never would Shargoth act like this with anyone else. Urag, though, he trusted.

Urag caught Shargoth grinning at him.

"Cheeky Orc,” he grumbled and he smacked the side of Shargoth's ass with a palm.

Shargoth shouted in surprise, reflex sending him up his toes. He gasped in another lungful of air when that palm landed on his opposite cheek with just the same stinging force. He could feel the slipperiness of the oil. Feel Urag’s hot palm pressing over the place he’d slapped. “Urag," he tried to say, but the words were knocked out of him by a rapid double-tap of smacks, and by then all he could do was lean over the desk and submit himself to the onslaught.

A few smacks later, Shargoth was panting into the wood, feeling his entire body in the sting. When the spanking ended, Shargoth, grown Orc that he was, _whined_.

"Your hiccups have stopped."

_Fuck hiccups_ , Shargoth almost roared back. He wanted Urag back on him and he wanted it two seconds ago. Urag chuckled and took Shargoth's ass in his hands, rolling the globes, caressing the flesh he’d lovingly abused.

"I suppose that I don’t need to continue my treatment. Wouldn’t want to over-medicate you.”

Shargoth's head snapped up. "Urag, don't you dare!"

Urag issued another sharp smack. "Behave."

Shargoth bowed his head, suddenly overwhelmed again. His sore throat worked. His eyes stung. He couldn't think clearly past the state of arousal he'd reached.

"You can't leave—Urag, I—I need—"

"You need my cock," Urag said.

"Yes," Shargoth breathed, "Yes, sir, I need your cock."

Urag hummed, stroking oil over his cock, and lined up. He paused a moment to enjoy the way the dark dimple felt against his crown and then he pushed in, keeping Shargoth's cheeks parted wide to watch himself disappear within the younger Orc. Even stretched, it took a slow, steady push before Urag sank all the way in. Shargoth groaned, hips reflexively rocking back to help push him home. He moved his hands to the edges of the desk and held on tight. He felt Urag take his own grab on the desktop and Shargoth knew Urag was reaching his own limit of restraint.

He didn't disappoint. Urag pulled out and snapped back in, slapping against Shargoth's tender ass, a grunt leaving him as he withdrew to do it again. He held nothing back. Shargoth pressed his head to the desktop and took the hammering thrusts, gladly, hungrily, until he was snarling, shoving back, nearly bucking Urag off. Urag growled back at him and grabbed his hips, continuing to slam inside, driving in and striking Shargoth in that way that made his body sing. He felt his senses reaching out, sensing the Aether around them, felt it gathering, swirling. His throat tickled. His power thrummed. Shargoth felt the tension building, swelling, until he gasped and felt Urag ram inside and he came over the smooth wood of the library desk. Urag lasted a few more thrusts until he tensed and Shargoth felt him pumping his climax inside with a rumbling growl.

All of his duties, all the responsibilities, Shargoth felt his mind shelve them one by one. They weren't what mattered. Here he wasn't Arch-Mage; he wasn't Dragonborn; he wasn't thane or champion or whatever other titles he'd gathered in his journeys. Here, he wasn't even Shargoth gro-Khazgur. Here he was just Urag's.

Eventually reality returned. He was draped over the desk, more on it than over it, and if the stickiness he felt was any indication, he was going to need a bath. Urag was still gripping him, keeping their bodies pressed tight, until Shargoth gave a soft grunt and hitched his hips. He winced as Urag pulled free. He missed it already. But he'd demanded enough from him for the time being. He stayed breathing heavy on the desk for a little longer, content to listen to the sounds of Urag moving about. He flinched--his body so sensitive--when a damp cloth wiped over his stinging ass, slipping under him to clean his cock, wiping away semen and sweat and oil.

He smiled at that. Urag was always prepared.

Gingerly Shargoth worked up from his sprawl. His smothered loincloth lay in a sad bunch on the desk. He'd just... he'd get a fresh one. And he hitched up his pants and readjusted his robe. He was very aware of the padded cotton brushing against his groin and backside, of the tender spots on his hips and thighs that hinted bruises, of the soreness in his throat, his jaws, his mouth. He was going to be feeling this for a while. That made him smile too.

Shargoth couldn’t hide his satisfaction. He tried to be polite by giving the molested desk a glance. "I didn't damage any of the books, did I?"

Urag chuckled. "No. I stored them in the opposite side there."

He gave Shargoth’s filthy undercloth one look and pointed at the basket behind the desk. Shargoth took the hint. He watched as Urag wiped over the edge of the desk with his cloth before tossing it in the basket as well. Shargoth knew he'd wash the desktop down properly later on.

"You're really only here for the day?"

Shargoth nodded.

Urag shook his head. He reached a hand up and brushed his knuckles into the stubble along Shargoth's jaw. "I _am_ proud of you," he said, his deep voice pure, unaffected by guise or play. "We all are."

"Urag," Shargoth started, but he didn't know what to say to that, so he did the next best thing he could.

He caught Urag's hand and urged him forward into a kiss. Their lips met without cause of worry for the teeth and tusks between them and Shargoth wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him close. He licked at Urag's lips, sucking on them as urgently and greedily as he had sucked his cock. Urag matched his intensity. Shargoth felt his blood rise. A part of him desperately wanted to keep him there and do it all over again. Everything. As many times as he could until Urag threw him out in disgust.

Urag broke the kiss when he felt Shargoth's hands begin to wander.

"Mind your manners," he rumbled at Shargoth. "You think we'll have this place empty forever? We've tested our luck as it is."

"I could summon a pair of atronachs to greet any visitors," Shargoth said, eye on the library’s entrance. "Nobody will pay us any attention then."

He was joking of course. Urag would dangle him off the side of the bridge by his ears if he summoned atronachs in the library. As if to emphasize that threat, Urag gave him a disapproving frown and pushed him back.

"Go on. Get yourself cleaned up. Maybe take a stroll around campus before you leave. Introduce yourself, _Arch-Mage_. Most of the students think Onmund invented you to scare them into good behavior."

Shargoth bit back a grimace. "You know I miss..." His eyes found Urag's. "You know I miss being here."

"Don't be a fool," Urag said, taking a step back. A rare emotion swept over his bearded face that few might have noticed; Shargoth noticed. "What you're doing is important."

"The College is—"

Smiling, Urag held up a hand to stop Shargoth from arguing. "Just, in between all your mighty questing and killing of dragons, maybe try to remember your old Orc every now and then. Maybe bring him a new book to add to his collection when you can be bothered."

The corners of Shargoth's mouth curled up. "Always."

Urag grunted and waved him off. Shargoth grabbed up his satchel and staff, and gave a mischievous grin back at Urag, who merely rolled his eyes and pointedly ignored him.

"Join me for dinner," Shargoth called back. "I might have a book with me I haven't shown you yet."

His grin grew at the sharp look Urag tossed his way. The gruff librarian always had been a sucker for a mystery. His relaxed mood stayed with him as he climbed the stairs up to the Arch-Mage chambers. He would indeed have to turn his attention to those reports and messages Onmund kept organized for him while he was away. But not yet.

**Author's Note:**

> First posted the the Skyrim kink meme community. If you read it there, too, thanks!


End file.
